


The Faux Skull Kid

by Useless_Turnip



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Death, Gen, Origin Story, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 18:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17872409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless_Turnip/pseuds/Useless_Turnip
Summary: Rusl's father returns home to Ordon Village with unsettling news.





	The Faux Skull Kid

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one night as a creative writing exercise. It's a first draft that has not been revised, but I probably will rewrite it one day because I felt it was a good idea.

The sun finally lowered, and the sky began fading into diffused colors of pink and blue as the scattered light in the horizon ebbed and sent Ordon Village into a semi darkness. Crickets chirred heavily in the grasses, frogs croaked by the babbling stream, and thrushes praised the cooling of the night. Twilight was always Rusl’s favorite time of the evening, and as he sat on his porch watching the mayor’s young daughter chase fireflies, he hardly missed his former homestead at all.  Today marked his sixteenth birthday, and if he was lucky, would also mark the return of his father from his journey to Kakariko Village.

He was excited but also realistic. His father might not return until the following day, so he went about with his evening chores and worked on his sword techniques until his arms were sore. He usually tried not to overdo his training, but Uli was watching and he wanted to look impressive. She was a couple of years younger, with blonde hair, doe eyes, and a sweet demeanor; Rusl was quite smitten with her, which made adjusting to the village a lot less difficult. There had been girls in Hyrule Castle Town, where he had been bred, but they were conceited and haughty and walked around with their noses firmly in the air. He had disliked them immensely. Uli, however, was different. She was kind and compassionate, and she had all Rusl’s affection.

She approached him later when her father, the local blacksmith, retired for the night.

“Evening Rusl.” She said in her soft voice. “Will he be here tonight?”

He shrugged his shoulders as she took a seat next to him. Everything about her seemed so bright, even in the developing darkness. “His letter said today, but I cannot be sure.”

“Happy birthday,” She said, and he saw she was smiling. “I made you a small cake, but Father was so jealous when he saw it that he ate it the moment I had my back turned.”

Rusl laughed, picturing her father swelling like a bull frog over something as trivial as a cake. He was not very trusting of outsiders, especially young men who caught his only daughter’s fancy. “Thank you, regardless. I’m sure it would have been tasty.”

“I hope he returns tonight.” Uli said, letting her legs dangle from the porch. “It _is_ your birthday, and it would be a shame for you to celebrate it alone.”

“I’m not alone,” He replied, nudging her with his shoulder. “I’m with you, and that already makes this birthday great.”

Uli laughed a twinkling laugh. He loved how she could be so shy but unabashed by his compliments at the same time. He tried his hardest to make her blush, but she was determined to not let him see it.

“Ilia come inside!”

He watched as the small child retreated to her house with a glowing jar. “Is her mother doing any better?”

Uli’s eyes were staring in the same direction. “She was not able to get out of bed today, and she’s so frail and thin. Mayor Bo is beside himself. He was talking to my father about their recent trip to that doctor in the castle square. He wants an insane amount to treat her with no guarantee it will even make a difference.”

He shook his head in disgust. “How corrupt can you get?”

She did not answer but continued to stare at Mayor Bo’s house. He watched her in her distraction. He had never seen such unity until he came to this small village, and it felt nice to feel everyone around him caring.

They sat there in silence as the moon inched overhead, listening to the swells of country life around them. He was just starting to think his father would not return when he saw the orange glow of a lantern emanating from the wooded area at the entrance to the village. He jumped to his feet and squinted in the darkness as the light came closer. A figured, shadowed by the lantern light, emerged, walking beside a horse and cart. Rusl recognized the horse and smiled broadly.

“I’ll go get the mayor.” Uli said, hopping down from the porch.

Rusl jumped down too and walked downhill, across the small village to meet his father. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

His father, Haon, was not smiling, his lined face looked very aged in the dim light and was most serious. Rusl felt a vague sense of foreboding. “I thought about camping out, but I came across something.”

“Oh?”

He did not answer him but waited as Bo came towards them. Uli stayed on the porch of his home with Ilia who seemed to be bouncing on her heels.

“It’s good to see you returned! These past few weeks, I thought you were going to stay there!” Bo said in his deep voice. He was chuckling at his own words, but it died away as he came close and saw him. “Haon? What’s wrong?”

“There are two bodies in the forest.” His father said lowly. “I could not bring them here as my cart was full.”

The hair on Rusl’s neck rose. He looked at Bo who seemed to be at loss for words.

“Bodies?” Bo asked after a moment, blankly.

“Two of them.” Haon replied shortly. “They are well hidden too. I only found them because I saw a skull kid, and I can only guess it is what killed them.”

“Skull kids stay further north, though.” Bo said in dismay. “They don’t venture down here.”

Haon shook his head. “Something is wrong with this one. I saw it from a distance. It was muttering incoherently, then ran when I approached, but I saw enough to know it’s definitely a skull kid.”

Rusl looked between the two men. He had never seen a skull kid before, but he had always thought of them as mischievous imp-like creatures who were only distrustful of adults. Not dangerous. Certainly not murderous. The idea that there were two bodies out in the woods decaying increasingly each day was rather disturbing.

“Where at?” Bo asked.

“Near Faron Spring and that old abandoned hut, several feet off the trail in some brush. If I hadn’t seen the skull kid, I would have never found them.”

“What do you reckon we should do?”

“We can’t afford to leave it alone.” Haon said slowly. “It might attack again. I think we need to go and handle it now. Skull kids are most active at night, and we don’t want to risk losing it.”

“I can’t,” Bo said, with a hint of anxiety. “My wife…. she’s ill… I….”

Haon waved his hand to his stammers. “Stay with your wife, Bo. I would not dare impede on that. I can go alone.”

“Let me go,” Rusl said immediately. His father might try to persuade him to stay, but he was not about to let him go and find a dangerous creature by himself.

Haon’s eyes were on his son, as if surveying him intently. Finally, he nodded his head. “Yes, I think that’s in order. Go saddle your horse.”

Rusl turned and jogged over to Uli, who was looking curious. “I’ll explain later. I’m going into the wood with my father.”

“Be careful!” She called out to his retreating figure as he made his way up the steep incline to the stables. The goats where tucked in for the night, with the horses just behind them. He found his brown and white mare settled in the corner stall and coaxed her out and began dressing her with his saddle and trimmings. He felt warm, and it was not from the humidity but from the excitement he felt. His father must believe that he can hold his own after all his training, and he was going to prove it tonight.

Haon was at Sera’s shop unloading part of his cart to her. He joined in, handing various jars and foods items. As he worked, he noticed a metal hilt gleaming in the moonlight. Pushing the supplies off it, he saw that it was a broadsword. Puzzled, he looked to his father who was watching him with a thin smile.

“It’s for your birthday.” He said, motioning for Rusl to take it. He did, pulling the blade from its sheath to inspect it. It was a Hylian crafted sword, finely made, with perfect balance and polished to shine. Rusl could not stop himself from openly admiring it.

“I thought you would like it.” His father said. “It’s about time you got a proper weapon. Your old sword is beyond repair regardless. Now put it on and mount up.”

Sera stood in the door of her shop watching with wide eyes as he fastened the new sword across his back.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Rusl said confidently, mostly at Bo’s large figure as he stood with his arms crossed.

“Don’t expect us back for a while, in case that creature gives us trouble.” Haon muttered, sitting on the head of his now empty cart. Bo said nothing and with that, he flicked his horse’s reins and the cart went forward, heading towards the annex that led further into the wood. Rusl followed behind him until the trail widened up for them to be side by side.

Moonlight streamed through the branches of canopied trees, casting an eerie glow about them as they passed through the minute road. His father’s lantern cast out a warm, orange light of its own, as did Rusl’s, but it did not seem to pierce through the thicket of the wood. An owl screeched in the distance, causing the hair on Rusl’s neck to rise again. The forest was disconcerting to him. He never did like venturing through it on their trips to and from, but he had never traversed it at night, and it unsettled him thoroughly. Knowing there was a crazed monster attacking people somewhere in that darkness distressed him. It could be watching him, waiting for an opportunity to attack.

“Where do skull kids come from?” He asked, deciding that his father’s voice might make the atmosphere less chilling.

Haon cleared his throat before answering. “No one really knows for sure. Stories say that they are ghost of children, but the fact is, skull kids are tangible creatures, so those tall tales are moot. People say the eternal children who lived in the forest eventually turned into them.”

“Eternal children?” Rusl asked, remembering vaguely of reading about them somewhere. “You mean Kokiri? Do you think they did?”

“Who knows,” Haon replied. “They disappeared as humans settled into Ordon.”

“I never thought they were _dangerous_ ,” He said lightly. “Even if they are monsters, they are just children, right?”

“I can only give you a biased answer. They don’t seem to harm actual children, but they have attacked adults numerous times. The important thing to remember is not to trust them. They have used their innocent persona to lure people into the deeper parts of the wood before.”

Rusl swallowed hard. He much rather be fighting a bokoblin or a bulblin. Something more concrete.

The bridge looked spooky in the faintness of the lanterns and moonlight. Fog was rising from the chasm below and swirling around lightly. It was a rope bridge, and Rusl never did trust it. He let his father go first with the heavier cart, then led his horse forward. The bridge creaked and swayed a little with his movement but held firm. They passed through the gorge, following the road down into a glen. Further down was another spring where they stopped for a moment to let the horses drink. The moon was almost directly above.

Rusl glanced at his father, who was staring at the water in thought. Rusl thought he looked rather tired. His father was considerably older than most parents, having had his son in his later years. Though Haon never directly told him, Rusl knew he had a family before him, a wife and a daughter, both that were lost in a horrific fire. He found love again with his mother, and retired as head of the Royal Guard, settling down with his new family, but tragedy struck again when Rusl’s mother fell ill and subsequently passed away when he was fourteen. Haon never let his son see his grief, he carried himself well, but Rusl knew it was there, carefully hidden. It was the reason they relocated to Ordon. His father stated that he needed the fresh air of the countryside, but he knew that staying in town was a painful reminder and never once complained. Haon taught him the way of the sword from early on, and they lived very simply, if not quietly.

It worried him to see his father’s age now.

“From here, we’ll need to tread carefully.” Haon said, taking the reins and leading his horse and cart. Rusl followed, also on foot. About a mile in, they came across the gate that led into the northern part of Faron. Rusl had never ventured forth in there, but knew about there were dangers, from bulblins to poisonous bog. Sera once mentioned that a traveler in her childhood spoke of a desolate labyrinth within the wood. He set out to explore it one day and never returned, so they kept the gate at the only entrance to that part of the forest to deter adventure seekers.

The road bent around an incline, leading to the decrepit, abandoned shack that Haon had mentioned. It looked ghostly in the night.

“Tie up your horse.” Haon spoke lowly, pulling off his bow and nocking an arrow into it. Rusl obeyed, feeling the sweltering anticipation. His father was searching around, as if looking for an opening near the shack, and after a few minutes, motioned for his son to follow and began stepping through the brush. Rusl trailed behind him, having unsheathed his sword. The brush was thick, but easily parted as if someone or something had attempted to make a trail. He imagined it was Haon’s work from earlier. It was a few yards in that a rancid, horrible smell fill Rusl’s nostrils. He gagged.

“Right there,” Haon whispered, pointing. He looked and felt a chill run through him. Sure enough, two bodies were strewn face down in the thicket. The smell was intense, and he felt his eyes water. “They stink, but they are not very decayed.”

Rusl lifted his lantern to get a better look despite his horror. He could not see much, thankfully, but he could make out that one of them was in a dress with a head full of long blonde tresses. Sickened, he looked away. “Are we going to bring them back?”

The thought of touching bodies that once housed life made him feel revolted.

“Yes, I think it would be disrespectful to leave them here, but first we’re going to follow these tracks.”

“What tracks?”

Rusl’s eyes followed Haon’s and saw a small trail of broken thicket leading out into the woods.

“It was not far from here.” He said, motioning for his son to follow. “I followed this to a stream when I found it, crouched at the water. It ran at the sight of me.”

Rusl imagined a silhouette of a child with red glowing eyes. He shivered. “What makes you think it’s still here?”

“I think it doesn’t want to stray far from these bodies, though I can’t fathom why. I heard it muttering just beyond my sight, though. As I was retreating to my cart, I had the distinct feeling I was being followed. I’ll need help catching it if it runs again. My knees aren’t like they use to be, and my eyesight is worse.”

He did not answer, but he was wondering how he could possibly catch a skull kid in the dark, but he continued forward without comment until Haon stopped dead in his tracks.

“Can you hear that?” He whispered softly.

Rusl strained his ears, not hearing at first, but then a small voice drifted in the air, a voice like a child who was singing softly. He had never felt so frightened by such an innocent sound. He knew better to answer aloud and nodded. Haon ducked down and blew out the light to his lantern. Rusl followed suit, enveloping them in darkness. He waited for their eyes to adjust to the light of the moon before moving again. This time he crept low until they were seemingly near the end of the brush. Very carefully, he parted the tall grass and Rusl saw a clearing with a small stream in the distance, down in a glen. His eyes raked the area and saw it. A small shadowed figure was crouched at the water, poking at it with a stick. Its eyes did not glow, but it was still singing very softly, apparently unaware of them. It was easily the most chilling thing he had ever witnessed.

Something did not feel right to Rusl though.  

Haon, very slowly, stepped out of the brush. Rusl followed him, stepping as lightly as he could. They were halfway down the slope when he set his foot down on a twig that snapped noisily.

The skull kid looked up in alarm and darted for it. Rusl sprinted forward, mustering up all the courage in him. The figure was quick but ran in disarray. He was surprised by how easily he covered the distance between them. He was going to catch it, but what would he do when he did? Slice it with his sword? The small creature was clearly running at full speed, and the sound it made as it panted was almost pitiful.

Rusl leapt at it and sent him and the skull kid sprawling into the stream. His first instinct was to stab it with his sword, but it made a strangled cry that was so chilling, he dropped his weapon completely. The childlike monster fought him wildly, but Rusl held on, even when it sank its teeth deep into his arm. He hollered out but did not loosen his grip. Something was not right at all. Looking down, he saw it writhing with all its might, but it was not much of a fight at all. Then he saw a glimpse of its face and yelped in surprise.

He was holding a small child.

“Did you get him?” Haon shouted, rushing over.

“It’s not a skull kid!” Rusl yelled, taking both hands and gripping the child firmly. “It’s okay, stop fighting me!”

But the child kept struggling, making snarling noises as he tried to wench away Rusl’s grip. Now that he knew it was not a monster, he felt a lot calmer, but still very much alarmed.

“What do you mean it’s not a skull kid?” Haon asked, rushing up behind him. Rusl did not know how to answer that question, but his father was quick to relight the lantern and shine it down on them. He reached into the water and pulled out Rusl’s sword.  

The child was young, the same age as Ilia nearly, with a head of fawn blonde hair. He could not tell what gender it was, but its eyes were a startling blue in the light, and they were terrified. Its face was incredibly dirty, with matted hair, and the tunic it wore was torn in many places and equally filthy.

“What in the name of Hylia?” Haon asked, reaching out to help his son keep the small tyke still. With his other hand, he slid the sword back into its sheath on his son’s back.

“It’s a Hylian child,” Rusl said, noticing its long ears. “I think he’s a boy cause of his clothes.”

Together, they managed to keep the boy still enough to get a better look at him. He stopped struggling soon after and simply stood there, panting. Rusl was surprised to see him so out of energy, but when he felt his grip, he realized he was emaciated and probably had not eaten a proper meal in some time. He had a suspicion about where the boy came from.

“Those bodies…. they’re Hylian, aren’t they?” He asked.

“Yes, they are,” Haon said lowly. “It must be a miracle this boy survived so long on his own. He’s probably three or four, I’d wager.” His next words were focused towards the child himself. “Can you speak, little one?”

The boy did not answer and started struggling again, but his energy was low and did not make any impact. His eyes stared up at the two of them, piercing and wild.

“Is he feral?” Rusl asked uncertainly.

“No, just scared.” Haon said wisely. “He’s been through some trauma, but he hasn’t been out here long enough to totally undo himself. C’mon, we’ll take him back to the village. Let’s go get his parents.”

“Sleeping.” The child muttered. He shifted from one foot to the other, looking down. Both of them stopped in their tracks.

“Sleeping?” Rusl asked, bewildered, but then it dawned on him, though he did not dare say anything to Haon in front of the child. He did not know how much he could comprehend. Mentioning his parents had calmed him down, but Rusl still would not release him in case he tried to run again. It was heartrending situation.

“Do you have a name?” Haon asked gently, but the boy did not answer and rubbed his eye with a muddy hand. “That’s okay. Do you like horses?”

To his relief, the child nodded, but he was still staring down in a detached sort of way.

“There’s a good lad. We’ve got some horses, and we have food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

It was the mention of food that instigated a reaction from him. He looked up with his intense eyes. Rusl could see that he was intelligent for his age, despite his lack of speech. He seemed to teeter on his thoughts for a moment, then opened his arms. Haon scooped him up.

His eyes were on Rusl as they walked back to the cart, which he noticed Haon went around the bodies instead of following the make shift trail. He set him down at the cart and the boy automatically went for the horses. He took that moment to light another lantern.

“Stay here with him,” Haon muttered. “Try to keep him preoccupied.”

He disappeared back into the brush.

“Would you like to see my horse?” Rusl asked, pointing at his own horse. “She’s really sweet.”

It worked. The boy went to his mare, with his back turned as Haon began dragging the bodies to the cart. Rusl was relieved that he did not have to touch them, but he felt thoroughly sorry for the small child who thought they were just sleeping. He did not know how they would explain it to him. He stayed by the mare until the sound of Haon opening a tarp distracted him. Rusl tried to regain his attention, but the boy went over to the cart as Haon covered the lifeless bodies.

“Sleeping.” The child muttered again, rubbing his forearm.

It took a bit to coax the child to ride with Haon on the front of the cart. The trip back was considerably less eerie, but Rusl felt rather hollow on the inside.

“What are we going to do?” He asked his father.

“First thing we’re doing,” Haon said, “Is getting some food in him before he starves to death. Then maybe a nice, hot bath. He’s our responsibility now, unless someone comes looking for him, but I don’t believe they will.”

“Right.”

It was a strange idea, taking care of a small, orphan boy they found out in the woods. He wanted to ask so many questions. Why did his parents come to the forest? What killed them and why did it not kill the boy? Of course, he did not dare ask any of these in fear of upsetting the child. Instead, he thought of what the villagers would say when they returned.

“At least it was not a skull kid.” He said after a while. “What do you think we should call him?”

“Link.”

Rusl looked over. It was not his father who answered. The child was staring back at him with his little intense face.

“I think you got your answer.” Haon said. “His name is Link, the faux skull kid. Consider him another birthday present.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know if you liked it.


End file.
